i'm not perfect, but i keep trying
by thelandslides
Summary: He finds himself getting lost in the sea of her green eyes, obscured by something else that's too deep for him to see, and they find that it is with each other that they are truly able to be themselves.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is Alternate Universe, set in the future when Puck and Quinn are almost twenty, and they don't know each other. I'm considering making this around three or four chapters - but it may only be this and another chapter. It starts off a bit confusing, I think, but by the end of the chapter it's pretty understandable. This is completely random and I'm not sure why I decided to write this; I guess from the current lack of Puck/Quinn on the show. This is rated _T _now, but may be changed to _M_. Please review!**

* * *

Noah Puckerman stands next to a window near the back of the subway, eyeing two hot girls standing directly across from him. They ignore him, not even glancing in his direction. He smirks briefly, it fades just as quickly, and he sighs as he turns around to stare out the black window, the surface outside racing by until it comes to a sudden, complete stop and he's waiting to get out of the subway. A small blue and white backpack is thrown around his sinewy toned shoulders.

He gets a cab and exits downtown New York City until he reaches eastern Brooklyn; snow is lightly falling, however melting before it even hits the ground. Puck looks up and touches a snow flake. "The _hell_? Snow in November," he mutters to himself, shaking it off to avoid talking to himself. The sky is already pitch-black as he steps up on the small step and rings the doorbell of the brick house and he knows he's probably missed Thanksgiving dinner.

He doesn't know what to expect since it's the first time he will be living with someone in two years, since he turned eighteen: his mom, setting up the Christmas tree two days after Thanksgiving, his sister watching in a pleasant silence; it all had passed in a surreal blur to him.

The door opens, and a girl quite a bit shorter than him with dark hair wearing a red dress stands behind it. "You must be Puck," she smirks. The way she moves her body to stand more in the doorway tells him she's hitting on him. _Any other day,_ he thinks, because this chick is hot, but he's not in the mood.

"I must be," he says arrogantly, and they just gleam at each other for a minute. "Well, move aside," he announces, "are you planning on keeping me out here all night?"

She says something but his mind shuts her out for a moment because he catches a faint glimpse of a blond girl looking at the doorway as she passes through the room. Finn mentioned Santana, saying something about how they were on-and-off for a while and she wanted someone to live with, but he said nothing about another girl living with them.

He walks inside the room when she finally moves out of the way, and steps into the living room and the adjoining kitchen. The lights in the den are dim, but inside the kitchen yellow light sneaks out – smoke, he sees smoke too.

"I hope you're not hungry," the dark-haired girl says, moving to stand in front of him and rolling her eyes, "because it'll be _our _luck if we end up not eating."

He's not sure what to say but he just nods, giving her his famous smile and she just thinks about how good it looks on him but she doesn't dare let it show. He looks at her incredulously and she holds up a finger and shushes him. "Your room is the last one down the hall. I'm guessing you want to start unpacking whatever it is you have in _that_"— she tilts her head in the direction of the backpack.

"Never seen a backpack before?"

"Not one so girly on a guy like you."

She thinks he's going to laugh, but he just shakes his head and says, "I didn't have anything else. Now move."

She crosses her arms and moves out of the way, saying something that he doesn't catch as he walks down the hallway. The hall is rather small and dark, but during the daytime he could assume that it's light and open, a couple of large glass windows on the left side.

All the doors are closed. He kicks the last one open and looks in: it's surprisingly large, twice the size of his old apartment bedroom, carpeted floors and a golden-comforter bed with tall, wooden posts on each end, and another door opening up to a closet. He throws the bag down on the bed; it was all he brought, but he didn't plan on staying here anyway.

For a minute, his mind is elsewhere as he reminisces, the flashbacks creeping up on him again. He just shakes his head and turns the backpack upside down, dumping the items and clothes onto the bed. He sorts through it and pulls out a golden chain necklace that has a cross attached and a girl's name engraved at the back in small letters. He rotates it around in his hands a moment, takes a deep breath and tosses it back down.

Behind him he hears a faint knock on the door, and he jumps, turning around and watching as the door quietly opens. "Hi," the blond girl says, biting her lip angelically. He's never been in love before, or felt any emotional attachment to a girl, but he finds himself getting lost in the sea of her green eyes, shadowed by something else that's too deep for him to see.

He clears his throat. "Hey. Uh, nice room."

"I'm glad you like it. So you think you'll be okay here?"

"Yep, thanks."

She walks into the room, stepping closer to him and peering at his stuff lying out over the bed. "You didn't bring much," she notes, then returns her eyes to him. "I'm Quinn. It's good to have you here, Puck."

"I'm glad you think so," he says, smiling playfully. "Someone else doesn't seem to feel that way."

She pulls her eyebrows together briefly and then apart, as if realization suddenly hits her. "Oh, _Santana_ – no, that's just how she is."

He nods. "So tell me, Quinn, what's a nice girl like you doing living with a chick like Santana and a guy like Finn?"

"You know _Finn—_"

"We're best friends," he tells her. He notices how Quinn skillfully avoids the question.

"Oh, he didn't mention—"

He nods. "It's probably best," he says under his breath, changing the subject. "So, I'm late."

"What?"

"I'm late. The subway left later than I thought."

She laughs lightly, but her eyes are apologetic. "Finn burnt the turkey." She says it as if someone committed a sin.

He looks down at the pile of his clothes, searches through the pile, and then reaches in a pair of jeans and pulls a wad of green paper out. "You hungry?"

Still smiling, she pulls up one eyebrow in an adorable, pixie-like way, "I'm _starving_," she admits.

"Dinner for two?" he asks smugly holding the money up.

She laughs and looks over her shoulder as if checking to see if anyone is watching. "That sounds nice, Puck."

_xx**  
**_**  
**

They've slipped away without either Finn or Santana noticing. They're sitting at a small table in the back of a diner in Times Square next to a window. They order and sip silently at their Coke. Quinn scoots her drink back a little, resting one hand on the table. "How old are you, Puck?"

"Nineteen."

"So did you transfer out of college or what?"

"Nope. I haven't gone to college yet."

"Oh," she says, meeting his eyes and slightly shrugging her shoulders. "Neither have I."

"Why not?"

"I don't have the money," she admits. "My parents are rich – but they kicked me out once I turned eighteen. I was _too much trouble_, my father said." She closes her eyes warily for a moment and doesn't say anything else. **  
**

He's not sure how to respond to that, knowing that whatever he says would end up sounding stupid or out of place. He doesn't question her, just shrugs off the temptation to reach over the table and touch her arm.

"What were you like in high school?" she asks, suddenly grinning. "I was a Cheerio."

He crinkles his face. "A _cheerio_? Is that some kind of girl scout—"

"Cheerleader," she corrects him, doing that cute thing again where she bites her bottom lip and raises her eyebrows.

"I was totally bad-ass," he says. "Still am. I was on the football team and kind of got suckered into joining the Glee club."

"You sing?"

"I _sang_," he says. "Past tense."

"I—I was in the Glee club too," she admits with a soft laugh. "Sometimes I sing for the choir at mass."

That strikes Puck hard just for a minute when he realizes this girl is religious and has expectations that a normal girl wouldn't have. He used to say he believed in God, but never really went to church.

But then when she grabs his hand from across the table, he realizes that this girl is nothing like any other girl he's ever met before.

_xx_

When they finish eating, they're walking side by side down the sidewalk in Times Square, looking at the stores as they pass. Quinn pulls her hands inside the sleeves of her pink sweater and wraps her arms around herself. It's cold enough that they can see their breath in the air. Puck looks at Quinn for a moment, smirking, and she notices and meets his eyes and smiles. "What?"

"Nothing," he says.

She laughs, looking at the top of his head. "You look cold."

"Hm?" She stops walking for a second, grabbing the tiny hairs on his head and he shakes her off a little with a laugh. "I'm growing it out. You'll see. I'll have a mo-hawk by Christmas."

"Oh, let's go in there," she says, catching him off guard as she points toward the glass window of a music store. "I think it's open."

Puck thinks about how he wouldn't do this for anyone else; since he was eighteen he's been closed off about his music, but Quinn somehow convinces him to buy a Les Paul guitar that he doesn't even know if he can afford and has to charge. Afterward they're walking the opposite direction to get home, both in a comfortable silence as the snow falls gently. But they don't go home first; they sit down at a bench and Puck plays the guitar for her, not really playing a song, just strumming. He holds her fingers on the strings to make a note, though she doesn't know what she's doing.

And he doesn't know what he's doing, either, because one second they're playing guitar and the next he's pressing his face to hers and kissing her, and she kisses back for a moment and stops, their foreheads touching for just a moment until they go on like nothing happened.

_xx_

They get back just before eleven o' clock. As they're walking in they hear the TV turned onto something on MTV and Finn and Santana are heating up something in the microwave in the kitchen.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Santana comments as Quinn enters the room, Puck following behind her.

Quinn opens her mouth to snap something back, but Puck makes a low chuckling noise in the back of his throat, although he doesn't think it's funny, and says back at her, "Look what it hacked up."

She turns around. "Um, I was kidding." She leaves from behind the counter and passes Quinn first, then Puck, shoving his chest before leaving the room, although she doesn't budge him.

Puck silently thinks _she fucking wants me_ as he opens the refrigerator; the microwave beeps and Finn takes a TV dinner out and sets it on the counter. "So, man," Finn says, "how's guitar going? Are you joining Glee club again in college or are you playing professionally now—"

Puck takes a beer out of the fridge, shutting the door loudly. "Neither."

"Neither?"

He absentmindedly takes a sip of beer, Quinn eyeing him questioningly from the doorway. "Nope."

Finn shakes his head and says quietly, "Man, you have to move on."

Finn can see the withdrawal in Puck's face. The prison around his heart slowly builds as he tightens his jaw, moving his shoulders back and breaking eye contact. "Dude, I am moving on. I'm _here_, aren't I?"

"Yes, but it kinda feels more like you're running away. You could have gotten gigs by now, you were _awesome._"

"I've just given it up, okay?"

"But why? Because of Maya? What - what happened to your sister – you couldn't have stopped it."

"Damn, just screw it." He turns away from Finn, facing Quinn, but doesn't look at her. "I'm fine."

_xx_

Later when Santana and Finn have gone to bed and Puck's sitting at the sofa playing Super Mario with beer entangled in his free hand, Quinn peers in the room and sits down at the couch with him, making sure to leave a considerable space between them. "What are you doing?"

"Playin' Super Mario."

"You're quite good at it," she comments.

"I've had lots of practice."

Quinn nods, silently watching him for a minute. She sees four bottles on the floor and wonders if he's drunk already – she doesn't drink anything other than wine coolers so she wouldn't know.

"So, Puck, about your sister earlier – what was that about?"

She sees his face slightly jerk almost inconspicuously and she waits for him to reply, but he doesn't answer and continues racing through levels on Mario. She can see something, obscured by the childish game he's playing, that he's holding inside. His face is hard and cold and he just silently takes a swig of his beer and she's scared to ask again.

_xx_

Quinn goes to bed at around two-thirty, but she can't sleep. She closes her eyes and when she feels herself draw closer to somnolence, she can hear the sound of music in the distance – it's quiet and she feels sad listening to it. She gets up and goes down the hall and sees Puck there sprawled across the couch in the middle of the night, strumming the guitar in his arms.

He takes another painful swig of beer, and Quinn recognizes the look in his eyes and suddenly feels closer to him. _He's lonely, _just like her.


	2. Chapter 2

The wind blows a bitter chill on their skin and neck as they walk down Central Park late evening, but Quinn doesn't seem to mind. The moon hovers in the oddly dark blue sky, surrounded by millions of stars – which Puck finds to be incredible, because he's never before seen the sky blue at night.

Puck grabs the hood of Quinn's white jacket, teasingly pulling it over her head and she laughs, muttering a _hey_ and knocks it down. He just laughs and looks at her; _two complete strangers,_ they could be anywhere else but they come to find that they're not so strange to each other after all.

"Have you ever been in love?"

Her question lingers in the air as they curve down the path. "No," he says, and he's not sure what he's looking at as her expression changes. He swears he'll never learn her ways.

Quinn promenades over to the swing set, jumping into the swing from behind. Puck chuckles, taking the swing next to her, trying to remember the last time he did this. He kicks off with his feet, lingeringly swinging in the air, the dark sky hanging over him each time he goes up.

Quinn laughs, trying to swing higher than him. "This makes me feel young."

"You _are _young," he reminds her, and they both just laugh, swinging past each other, Puck a little higher than her as the bitter cold air swipes across their face.

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" Quinn asks.

"The _craziest_ thing? What do you mean by that? Do you mean sexually or—"

"No, _pervert_. I mean, in general. Like something you know is life-threatening but you wanted to do it anyway."

"I don't know." He thinks about that. "Well, I used to do a lot of shit. I'd throw people in dumpsters and – and I got in fights. I went to juvie once, and it was hell, and for some reason I acted like I liked it and it was cool."

"Why don't you do that anymore?"

"Again, I don't know. I just kind of...stopped."

"Hm." Time seems to stop as they race past each other, as if they could just keep swinging there and nothing would ever change. "I jumped off of a building once when I was really young. I hated gravity and I wanted to defy it." He laughs. "Yeah, I was naïve."

He wonders if maybe she still is, but as she's suddenly quiet and lost in thought, Quinn gazing around the park and taking in a deep breath as her legs slowly brush past the ground, Puck can see the pain in her eyes. He doesn't understand it. But maybe he doesn't want to.

Puck smirks and grabs the metal chain of her swing, spinning her in circles as she snaps out of a daze. She screams, trying to push him away – yet still pulling onto his arm. He flashes a smug half-smile and rises to his feet, taking Quinn's hand and pulling the seat back and into the air to reach the same height as him, Quinn still giggling and smiling. He likes her smile and wishes he could keep her smiling; but he knows soon enough, he'll inevitably do something that will scare her off and break her heart.

"On three we jump, okay?"

"You're weird," is all Quinn says, and Puck nods because he knows it's true and they count to three and dive into the air, landing several feet away on the hard ground with a grunt, Quinn landing into Puck's chest. Puck grunts because he think he threw his back out. "Fuck, I'm too old for this."

"You're not even twenty," she says, shaking her head, lying back on the ground and looking at the sky. She sighs a little warily, resting her hands on her abdomen as she feels the mood suddenly change. She sucks in a cold, deep breath and imagines what it would be like to break away from gravity and fly free. She fantasizes that it would be something like what she just did, plunging carefree towards the earth, only instead she'd be flying away from earth, towards the sky, where she often stares and wonders.

Sitting up with a soft sigh, Puck lowers himself down on top of Quinn, meeting her green eyes and kissing her because it feels like the right moment to. Expecting her to push him away, she links her arms around his neck and kisses back softly, and then it's over and she just lays her head against his firm chest as she watches the sky – waiting for that spark to fly across the sky somewhere, and he just watches her.

* * *

The snow is coming down in a blizzard of white puffs around them as they walk. Puck's freezing his ass off, and Quinn's simply standing lost in thought as she leisurely holds the palm of her hands out facing upwards. Such a wrong expression on a girl in such carefree surroundings. She has that deep look in her eyes that she gets often that he still has yet to figure out and her hands are at her hips as she observes the snowflakes falling on her skin. "I wasn't always like this," she says, not meeting his eyes.

He's unsure what she means, but he just mumbles, "Me neither."

"No." She suddenly stops in her tracks, three feet in front of him as she faces him.

"What?"

"I once lost myself," she says, and he scrunches his eyebrows together as she goes off in another world of conversation. "I was popular, the girl that every guy _wanted_ but every other girl was afraid of. I was president of the Celibacy club and captain of the Cheerleading team. And I didn't like who I was."

"Why are you—"

She interrupts him, and it's as if she releases everything she had built up inside of her for however long. "And then – and then my parents kicked me out when I was eighteen because they didn't want to waste any of their precious money on their disappointment of a daughter. They had this perfect plan set out for me: I would marry Finn Hudson right after graduating college and have kids. And I was with Finn for a while, okay, but Santana was so caught up in him and everything, and I don't know, it didn't work.

So slowly, my parents began to become disappointed in me. I wanted to date the guys I chose to be with, wear what I wanted, do what I want. So I did just that. And when I wanted to go to a different college than the one they had planned out for me...that's when they kicked me out." Suddenly, she's quiet again and she shakes her head. "I...didn't have anywhere else to go. And I don't think you did either, Puck, and that's why you're here."

A silence settles between them as he's at a loss for words. And then, Quinn turns around and starts walking again, and they walk side by side without saying a word.

* * *

Three weeks before Christmas, Finn and Santana are gone to the city to find a tree to put up in the living room. At twilight they're still gone, and Puck's standing at the window beside the fireplace, watching the snow fall harmoniously around the world, somehow seeming to pause time.

Puck thinks about his mother. He wonders how she's doing and considers calling her, but it's been months and months since they've spoken and he wouldn't know what to say. They always have a hard time speaking during this time of year.

He thinks about Quinn – who, without his noticing, lingers in the doorway from the hall, wearing a short blue and white dress, watching Puck in silence as if trying to comprehend his thoughts. A small, faint sigh whispers across the room before Quinn pivots on her heel, followed by a _pop_ in the kitchen.

Returning a minute later, she saunters over to Puck, hovering silently behind him as she glances out the window at the flurrying snowflakes. "It's beautiful," she says morosely without him turning around. She knows he heard her approaching. "Don't you just...wish you could slip away into it?"

He clears his throat and speaks softly. "What do you mean?"

The question sounds rhetorical, but Quinn's eyes trail down his body, and she imagines sinking herself into his chest, his faded black band T-shirt and hugging his body into hers, comforting him. She shakes her head and answers anyway. "It's like, there's a whole world out there. And-" she pauses, tears in her voice that Puck can hear without even looking at her face. "And we only see part of it."

He says nothing, but she sees the look in his eyes change, and she locks eyes with him although he refuses to look at her. "There's too much bad shit out there," he finally says, a bit choked up. "You can get caught up in all that. _Lost_. Sometimes it's better to stay behind, to miss out on the world."

Staring out at the snowy night, they both fall into an angst of silence.

* * *

Santana and Finn return with the tree near one in the morning, tossing it to the side with the intention of putting it up when daylight comes. Puck sits with Quinn at the table while Finn and Santana sit on the couch in the living room, talking in low voices. When Santana falls asleep on the couch, Finn suspiciously goes to bed without saying anything. Quinn wonders if they had a disagreement.

Quinn's strumming Puck's guitar, watching as Puck drowns himself away in alcohol. Every few minutes she'll try to start a conversation, absentmindedly commenting about how she wishes she could play guitar, or suggesting he play something for her, but neither speak for the majority of the time.

"When did you start playing guitar?" she tries again.

He glances up, mumbles something and says, "I don't know. I was pretty young."

Quinn jolts upward at his vague response, setting the guitar in the case on the cold floor. "While you're getting wasted I'll be cleaning up the kitchen," Quinn snaps before wandering to the sink. Puck hears glass break, but he can't concentrate because his head is pounding, and despite that, he continues to drink.

Quinn hollers out something, but Puck's unsure if she's cursing or calling for him – or both – but he staggers upward and stumbles into the kitchen.

"You're pissed at me," Puck accuses.

"_No_," Quinn says briefly, sarcasm dominating her voice, leaning over and picking up pieces of broken glass off the tile floor. He can see to Tokyo down her dress, but she either doesn't give a care or she's so fucking pissed that she doesn't think about how her outfit isn't appropriate for an intoxicated guy to see.

Puck raises the bottle to his lips once more, and Quinn pulls herself up and snatches the bottle from him, waving it up in the air. "_You_ stay here, _you_ help me instead of slowing me down, because no one else gives a damn except me."

"Whoa, Quinn, calm the hell down, alright?" She glares at him, and his eyes are clouded and a bit unfocused. "I don't want any of your Christian judgments, alright-"

"This isn't about being judgmental," she snaps.

"Then what is it about?"

She shakes her head and turns away from him, taking a few pans off the stove and shoving them into the sink. Puck sighs and grabs her arms, but she pulls away and says, "_Stop_." He doesn't, just keeps trying to get her attention by grabbing her around the waist.

"_Quinn. _What do you want me to do?" he asks as he finally lets go of her and watches as she walks away. She shakes her head and goes to the stove again, avoiding the question. "_What _do you want me to do?" he repeats, raising his voice.

"Nothing." Opening and closing cabinets, Quinn clears off the counter, sauntering out of the room without another word. Puck finishes cleaning the kitchen.

* * *

The air conditioner makes a relaxing buzzing noise in the dark room, blowing through the vent above Puck's bed three hours later. He glances at the illuminated numbers of the alarm clock every _what he imagines to be _half hour. _4:25_ and not a blink of sleep. He lets the mattress sink around him, absorbing him, as he feels himself slowly pulling towards being sober, but he knows it's not the alcohol keeping him awake, because he never gets much sleep in December.

He hears the ticking of the clock, cars racing by the street outside, footsteps in the hallway. Despite the background noises he can actually _hear _the cold, dreadful stillness of the silence, and he hates nights like that because his mind drifts to places he hates going to that he always returns to anyway and prevents him from sleeping.

He stares at the doorknob, knows fingers are holding it on the other side, and watches as it pokes open, Quinn entering the room and letting the door close itself. Everything has a blurry feeling to it for Puck now. He swears he can feel the darkness, see the pain, hear the silence. She sits down at the edge of the bed and lays a hand next to him and he just stares at her. Her voice is slightly hoarse as if she's been crying, eyeliner lightly smeared under her eye. "Do you think everything happens for a reason?"

Puck's lips begin to move to say yes, but his heart says no. "I don't know."

Letting that sink in for a minute, Quinn nods and lies down next to him, and she gives a broken angel's sigh and grabs Puck's hand, touching his skin, placing it at the top of her hip. Neither move positions, but Quinn traces her fingers down his arm, lost in a daze. "What happened to your sister?"

Despite her first attempt not going so well, he gives her an answer this time. "She was in a car accident," he says carefully, closing his eyes, and Quinn can feel and hear the withdrawal thick in his voice. "With my mom. But my mom made it out okay, and Maya didn't." He says it simply, not elaborating, and Quinn doesn't ask him to.

Instead, she continues rubbing his arm, and oddly enough it comforts him, and for a minute he forgets the world, forgets that right now, his mom's at home alone probably distraught because she feels like she's lost both of her children. Forgets that tomorrow's just another day closer and farther away from everything.

"You're scared," Quinn whispers, and he looks over her and scrunches his eyebrows together and starts to say something but she shakes her head. "You don't _have _to be," she says, and there she puts that mask up again where she appears brave and content with life, when really she's trembling inside. But that's just it. Perhaps everyone's hurting, but you could look right into their eyes and remain oblivious to the fact that maybe, they're just as broken as you.

He sees Quinn lean up and she wraps her legs around Puck's waist_. _He pulls her body down completely and grabs her face closer to kiss her. She watches him as he wipes the makeup under her eye, and moves his hand to her hip. He kisses her neck and his fingers fumble inside her dress to unclasp her bra, Quinn forcing his shirt off and tossing it down. "You're scared, too," he faintly tells her, and then for a little while they lose themselves together.

* * *

**A/N**: If you didn't notice, this has been changed to M. This chapter wasn't that _Mature _but the following ones may be, and this chapter was also really short, but the last chapters will probably be much longer. And wow, thank you so much for all the positive reviews I got for the first chapter. They are extremely appreciated, you have no idea. I didn't really like this chapter, but anyway, this will have _at least _two more chapters. And sorry that it took a while to update this. I'm actually writing another multi-chapter Puck/Quinn fanfiction right now and I'll probably put up the first chapter when I finish this story.


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